Euphoria
by NellietheMarvelous
Summary: Post-ep for 6x17 In the Belly of the Beast.


**Disclaimer: Not mine. I just like to play with the characters. **

**A/N: Spoilers for 6x17 In the Belly of the Beast. Also I haven't read any post-eps for that episode so if this is similar to anything else out there then it's completely coincidental. **

**Requested by Sav and Ris. And they've been waiting weeks for me to post this. Sorry loves. **

There's no hesitation when she takes his offered hand. Nothing keeping her away from him, not one single thing is more important than his "_come to bed"_. She follows, lagging a little to let her eyes roam over him, over the loft, over _their_ bedroom. She stares down at their hands, his palm engulfing hers. All things she thought she'd never see again. Her body longs for him, to just be with him, to be pressed against him and feel the warmth of his skin.

She just wants to wrap her arms around him. So she does. As soon as he lets go of her hand and turns to say something, her arms are around his waist, fingers gripping his back. The battered side of her face turned into his neck, her whole body pressing heavily into his. The weight of everything crashing in, leaving her weary and weak, in need of the support. The warmth he provides seeps through her clothes, sinking down through her muscles and settles in her bones.

She can feel his shaky exhale, the way it chokes out from his chest and breathes hot damp air against her hair. He wants to say something, she can tell by the tension in his shoulders but he doesn't, he's quiet and when her lips press against his neck, his body relaxes. There's so much they could say, so many words left unspoken but she's said the important ones and anything else is superfluous. He doesn't need to know every little detail and she doesn't want to relive it. She wants to stay here, with him.

He holds her tighter when she inhales deeply, breathing him in, taking comfort in the scent she's so familiar with. He smells like home. And maybe she clings a bit when he tries to pull back, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades, keeping him against her but she lifts her head, catches his gaze. Those blue eyes of his are stormy, clouded and she swears she can feel an ache in her chest that must match his.

"Kate," He's whispering and she smiles a little at the sound of her name, the touch of his fingers as he skims them along her cheek. "I thought -"

"Shh. Not now." She doesn't want the worst of the world following them into their bedroom. This is where she escapes, where they can be _them._ Just a couple in love.

She's so madly in love with him.

And he's so warm. His heart thumping a calming cadence beneath the palm she rests on his chest. Every beat of it reminding her that she's actually home. That she isn't in a delusional state of mind due to lack of oxygen. They're both here and it's the look in his eyes, the raw emotion shining through that has her lifting up on her toes and pressing her mouth against his.

Not as softly as in the precinct. Trying to get closer, parting her lips, waiting. Just needing. There's a moment he resists, one brief second before he kisses her back, pouring himself into just as strongly. Giving as she takes. Her brain shuts down, everything dissipating, leaving nothing more than the feel of his lips, the buzz spreading through her limbs, the ache of her lungs as she sucks in a breath.

And part of her panics just a little, her brain betraying her, making her think she can't get enough air and she's momentarily back to being dunked over and over. Her hands push at his chest, mouth roughly separating from his. An apology already forming but he understands, rubs his hand down her spine. His voice low and steady.

"Hey, easy."

"I'm okay." And she is. She's better than okay. Even when the fingers that brush against her face make her wince, she's more than just 'okay'. Because he'll never hurt her and without another thought, she's pushing her mouth back to his and swallowing his surprised gasp.

Her hands already pushing at his shirt, dipping under the fabric to touch bare skin and he's trying to stall her, slow it down but she doesn't want him to be so cautious. She doesn't want the gentleness of his hands wrapping around her wrists. She wants him to let her have this.

He doesn't stop her, she thought he would but he doesn't. He keeps it slow, loving, savoring her mouth with his and she's burning from the inside out. Finally warm again. She never thought she'd be warm again, she thought her grave was out there in those woods but now she's home. She's home and the man she's marrying is sliding his hands over her hips, kissing her softly. Short tender kisses that leave her raw.

She doesn't know who removes the first article of clothing or the last. It matters little. All she knows is the feel of his skin against her own, how gently he touches and caresses as he lays her down on their bed. The way he strokes the damaged side of her face, watching her to make sure he isn't hurting her. She aches. Her body hurts, her head hurts but he feels right.

When she lets him settle between her thighs, she's hit with the intensity of his gaze. The blue of his eyes darkened by more than just arousal, by more than the need to keep her here. She can see and feel everything he pours out. He didn't know how to help her, couldn't help her and that hurts him. With a hand curved around the back of his neck, she pulls him down, bumps her nose against his as her hips rock up to show him she's ready, that she needs him.

"I love you." And with those three words, she pulls him away from his darkening thoughts. Even if he doesn't think it, he saved her. In every way that counts. He kept her fighting, he kept her alive. And now she just wants to feel him. "Rick, please."

She has him at the sound of his name leaving her mouth, a plea he can taste against his lips, one that has him groaning. How he maintains control, she has no idea. Because she almost loses it at the first press of him, the way he eases inside her, gliding slowly. She wants to tell him she won't break, that he doesn't need to be so careful but she's at a loss for words, enjoying it too much. Letting him settle fully inside, stretch her, a heaviness between her thighs that is a welcome distraction from the lingering burn in her lungs and the ache in her head.

She's the first to move, to initiate that rocking motion that has him sliding deeper, making them both sigh. A wave of pleasure rippling from her body into his. She clings, wraps her legs around his waist, wants to hold him in place. With each slow thrust, he sets her on fire. Makes her ache and claw at his shoulders, needing more. Needing _something._

Her moans and his heavy breaths the only sounds filling their room. The only thing that matters. She'd thought she was as good as dead, left the note for him because he would need it. He'd need to know every word, everything she was thinking in her last hours but she didn't die. She's alive. She's so _very_ alive in his arms, arching into him, panting his name, stroking her fingers through his hair when he kisses her neck.

She almost shatters at just the rough whisper of her name but the words that follow, broken and stuttered, barely coherent have her eyes flying open, her mouth rounding in a soft 'o'.

"Kate, I thought I'd never see you again." It brings back memories, hard, ugly memories of a time he'd said the same words. And she feels the pressure grow in her throat, a swell of something she can't choke down. Her vision blurring and her body tensing in his arms as the slide of him inside her becomes overwhelming. Too much.

She breaks apart on a sob, a choked strangled thing that forces its way out when she tightens around him. The heat between her thighs becoming an inferno that expands through her belly, up into her chest, her face flushing and her arms tingling. She barely hears his groan over the sound of blood rushing in her ears but she feels the moment he stills, no longer keeping pace, his body pushing heavily into hers. She's warm. Hot. Burning up and she welcomes it, doesn't realize she's crying until he's wiping at her cheeks.

He says nothing, knows he didn't do anything wrong but she catches the way his eyes mist. He hates seeing her upset and if possible, she loves him even more for it. He tries to ease off of her but she wraps her legs tighter around his hips, keeping him there.

"Stay." She doesn't want him moving, wants to keep him draped over her, buried inside her just a little longer. She needs it, even if the tears have stopped.

"I'm crushing you."

"Just stay." He does. He lets her hold him, seek the comfort she needs and she's no fool. She knows he doesn't mind being pillowed between her breasts. Despite his try to be a gentleman, she knows he's staring at her nipple. And the longer she holds him in place, the more he accepts his position. Kissing the curve of her breast, brushing his thumb over the peak and whispering words of love against her sensitive skin.

But after several minutes, possibly more, he's moving, complaining about his shoulder aching and she understands. She does but she still doesn't want to let him go. It takes a lot for her to ease her hold, to let him roll away but before she can even mourn the loss of his touch, he's pulling her into his side, tangling their legs.

They're both exhausted, her eyes already threatening to close but not yet. Not yet because she has more to say now. Things she wants to let him know. Not the harsh details or how it felt when she couldn't get any air in her lungs, how oxygen deprived and cold she'd been. How her face went numb from the cold and yet still burned at the same time.

No. What she wants to say is important.

"Castle?"

"Hm?" He's relaxed, lazy in his response and she smiles against his chest, props herself up on an elbow to watch his face. The lines seem softer, less visible. The crease in his forehead smooth and the pinch of his brow completely gone.

"When I was...before they..." She doesn't really know how to start without backtracking to the beginning and he already heard the glossed over cop version she gave as her statement, he doesn't need to hear it again.

His eyes open, his attention on her and she raises her palm to press it to his cheek. She'll start with what actually matters. Leaning over him, kissing him softly, that matters to her. And when he tangles his fingers in her hair, stroking down the strands, playing with them but never taking his eyes from hers, she lets the words out.

"Babe, I wrote you a letter..." Once she starts, she doesn't stop until he knows every word she wrote for him. Only pausing when he tugs at the ends of her hair, pulling her down to steal a kiss. She had hoped she'd get to tell him all these things in person. And she does. It was his letter, his words to have and she lets him take them, hear them. The message rings through loud and clear. Without him, she would be a shell of a person. Not really living or enjoying life and with him, well with him she's everything she wants to be.

He's the only partner she'll ever have. The only man she loves and the only man she'll ever marry. He's saved her life and she's saved his. She'd fought for their future. Their wedding. Their always.


End file.
